


The Kissing Bandit

by webeta123



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alex is Sam, Character Death, Henry is Kissing Kate, Holes au, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, old west au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30130101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webeta123/pseuds/webeta123
Summary: Henry was a schoolteacher in Texas. Alex was a corn farmer who came to town every season to sell his wares. When they're forced apart, Henry takes matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Kissing Bandit

**Author's Note:**

> Again, the discord is simultaneously the best and worst thing for me. Good because I get great ideas like a Kissing Kate AU. Bad because then I have to write it. If you don't know what this is based on, this is based on the subplot in the movie Holes. If you look up The Legend of Kissin' Kate Barlow, you'll see where a solid portion of this came from. So... here.

_ 1871 _

Henry didn’t think there could be a place in all the world as perfect as Texas. The town was bustling with activity and his brother had established himself in the town as a man with a lot of money to burn. Henry was content to be a school-teacher for the children, teaching them everything they could ever want to know. He knew that it was odd for a man to want to be a teacher, but that was what he wanted out of his life. He wanted to see the children grow and he had even begun teaching his brother’s friends some basic reading as well. 

The schoolhouse was small, but held all of the children without any worry whatsoever. The lake lapped playfully at the bank as Henry released the schoolchildren for the day, putting on his hat and making his way to the market where the sellers hawked their merchandise. There were some playful clouds that made their way across the perfect blue sky and Henry couldn’t help but smile.

“Corn! Get your lovely sweet corn here! Freshly grown, freshly picked, perfect for every occasion! Weddings, funerals, picnics, you can’t go wrong with corn in your basket. Elixirs, potions, get your corn too!” Henry’s grin grew wider as he came up to the sound of that voice. Alex Claremont-Diaz, a familiar sight this time of year, was standing by his cart, the cart stacked high with leaf-covered corn. The children raced to him as he continued his pitch, “The ancient Aztecs knew exactly how great corn could be. They put this stuff in everything and have you ever noticed how long they lived?” The children giggled. Alex hadn’t changed his pitch in so long that Henry knew it by heart. His mule, Betsy, was nibbling away at some grass near her, “My sweet Betsy has been eating three ears of corn a day and she’s over a hundred years old.”

“Now, Alex, you’re barely over twenty-five, how in the world would you know that?” Henry asked with a grin. Alex’s bright brown eyes glinted in the Texas sun, his smile nearly blinding him.

“I have my ways.” He gave a tip of his hat to Henry with a wink that made Henry’s heart stutter. He looked down and away, biting his lip. He saw his brother out of the corner of his eye who was watching their exchange with narrowed eyes. He looked back to see Alex was selling some elixirs to the prospectors who had come into town, proclaiming, “These lizards hate the taste of my corn, I wish your friend back there had thought to come to me first.” He nodded to the cart behind them where a body was being covered with a sheet by the doctor. Henry winced and readjusted his waist coat and his hat, making sure to cover his neck. He looked back towards his brother who was walking up with his friends, all of them listening to Alex as he started up his pitch again. Philip gave him a raised eyebrow and a stern look which made the happy feeling in Henry’s chest promptly die away. 

“And as for you, Mr. Henry.” Alex produced a cloth bag and handed to him, “The absolute finest that my corn field has to offer.” He gave a winning smile that brought back every happy feeling that Philip’s unspoken warning had killed. 

“And here is that book that you were looking for.  _ Northanger Abbey _ from Jane Austen.” Alex gave a grin as he took the book from him and idly flipped through the pages.

“This is just what I need on those long nights in the field, Mr. Henry. Thank you.” He said, tipping his hat to Henry again before he turned back to his audience. He heard Philip say something to the sheriff but he could only watch as Alex’s grin turned saccharine and his voice turned to honey. 

The next day the happy clouds that had floated in the sky the day before had turned dark and stormy, opening up right at the end of the day. Henry stood at the doorway, the children huddled near him and clearly not wanting to go. “Alright, alright, it’s just a bit of rain. Put on your hats, rain or shine we’ll still have school in the morning. Go on then, go on home.” The children raced out in groups of two and three back to their homes where hopefully their roofs didn’t leak like the schoolhouse. Once the schoolhouse was empty, Henry went back to the front and began to clean off the board, shaking his head as he listened to the pitcher that he was using as a raincatcher continue to fill. He had already needed to empty it three times that day and he was sure he would need to come back in the night to empty it again so that it didn’t spill out onto the floor. Once the board was clean and he had washed off the erasers, he turned to his desk and began to organize the papers there. He glanced up at the sight of movement at his door, sure one of the children had forgotten a hat, but instead he found Alex in the doorway with a cloth bag in hand.

“Hello there, Alex.” Henry said with a small smile, his heart doing funny things in his chest.

“Hello there, Mr. Henry.” Alex said, stepping in at the wave of Henry’s hand. He took off his hat and put it to his chest, “I thought you might like some more corn.” He said, holding up his bag of corn as evidence. Henry could feel a blush come to his face and he hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“Thank you, Alex. I’m sorry I don’t have a book for you.” He told him.

“That’s alright, I actually wanted to return the one you gave me.” Alex said, reaching into his coat and pulled out  _ Northanger Abbey.  _ Henry gave him an annoyed look that was tinged with joy.

“Now Alex, we’ve talked about this. You give me corn and I give you books, that’s how this is supposed to work.” Henry teased gently, his fingers brushing against Alex’s calloused ones as he took the book. “Besides that, you’re not telling me you read this all in one night.” 

“I couldn’t put it down. I’m a bit of a voracious reader, one could say.” Henry raised an eyebrow, his smile unable to be contained.

“Voracious, you say? That’s quite a big word for a simple corn farmer.” Alex stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning himself.

“My mama wanted me to be well-read and my daddy agreed. Even now, I can’t seem to shake my knowledge. Is that such a bad thing?” Henry shook his head.

“No, Alex, I love a man who’s well read. Are you familiar with Achilles and Patroclus? I don’t normally give my copy of the  _ Iliad _ away, but since you’re so voracious in your reading.” Henry opened his desk drawer and pulled out the well-worn copy, some of the pages were stained by either water or coffee. “You’ll have to excuse some of my notes inside.” 

“I’m very familiar with that legend, but if you have commentary I’d love to read it.” Their fingers brushed again, this time with clear intent. Henry was sure his face was tomato red. He didn’t realize how close he was until he stepped back to get some breathing room and knocked into the table that held the pitcher. It tumbled to the ground, the metal clanking loudly against the wood as the water spilled onto the floor. 

“Oh no.” Henry said softly, taking his cleaning rags from the chalkboard and starting to mop up the water. Alex knelt beside him, taking a few rags from his own pocket to soak up the water. A drop of water hit Alex on the head and Alex looked up in time for another to hit him on the forehead.

“I’ll fix that.” Alex said, wincing as another drop hit his nose.

“Alex, don’t go telling me that you’re a roofer as well as a farmer.” Henry said as he stood and hung the rags on the coat hooks to dry. He heard Alex chuckle.

“No, Mr. Henry, I’m just good with my hands. I even built my own boat with my daddy, many eons ago.” Henry gave him an amused smirk. “I have to use the boat to get to my field across the lake you know.” 

“I guess you can’t have it leaking halfway across the lake.” Henry teased, nodding.

“How about we do this? I fix that roof and in exchange, you tell me about the commentary I’m sure I’ll find in this book.” Henry’s face heated up again but he found himself nodding anyway. 

The next three days had Alex on the roof of his schoolhouse while he taught the children their nouns and verbs, Henry’s looping writing providing clear instruction for the children as they learned the differences. The steady beat of Alex’s hammer against the roof provided a solid beat for Henry as he worked the children through their times tables, the children catching on far quicker than they had the year before. And in the quiet evenings, with the cicadas chirping, Henry explained his notes to a captive Alex, who rested his elbow against the table with his cheek in his hand. 

When Alex was finished with the roof, he found him outside putting away his hammer. “Well, Mr. Henry. I guarantee that roof for five years.” He handed him his copy of  _ The Iliad,  _ their fingers brushing again as some of the townspeople walked by. “Was there anything else I could do?” 

“You know, the windows won’t open and in this summer heat, it’d be nice to have a breeze.” Henry said shyly, hugging his book to his chest, “I can tell you my thoughts about  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray _ ?” Alex’s face split into a grin.

Henry was working with little Martha regarding her reading, using a copy of  _ Pride and Prejudice _ as his book of choice. Little girls usually loved the romance, he loved the simplicity of it. “‘Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began,’” 

“‘In vain have I struggled.’” Henry looked up in surprise at Alex’s voice, initially he was looking at the window. “‘It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’'' Henry’s heart thudded out of his chest as Alex finished the quote, his bright brown eyes boring into his. 

“I guess I should have guessed that you would know Jane Austen so well.” Henry said, his face bright red. Alex gave a modest grin and turned his attention back to the window, carefully sanding away the edges that kept the window from rising and closing. “You know, there’s something wrong with that door.” He saw the edge of Alex’s lips curl into a smile. 

“I’ll fix it.” 

That evening, Henry was teaching some of Philip’s friends the basics of reading, the men having spent most of their time farming and not a lot of time reading like he and Philip. “The duck… swims… on… the lake.” The man said, his hat in his hands as he stood and read from the board. Henry gave him an encouraging smile.

“Very good, Thomas. You’ve gotten much better about not allowing those s’s to slip you up.” Henry told him, pointing his pointer at the board. Thomas nodded jerkily a few times before he took his seat again. 

“The duck may swim on the lake.” Philip began, smirking to his friends, “But I own the lake, so the duck will just have to wait.” Philip’s friends roared with laughter as Henry’s smile became tight. While he and Henry might have shared parents, there was little else that they shared. Philip preferred the company of men like him whereas Henry preferred the company of books. And now, Alex. Who walked in through the open schoolhouse door and was looking through his toolbox as Henry decided they had done enough for the evening. 

“Thank you, Philip. I think that’s enough for the night, class is dismissed.” 

“Henry, let me talk to you for a moment.” Alex watched the men file out and slowly walked out himself, though Henry could see his shadow in the doorway which comforted him in some ways. He looked to his brother, who was leaning against the front desk. “You should come with me and the men on Saturday to go hunting. It’ll be good for you to get out of this schoolhouse and stop acting like such a woman.” Henry gritted his teeth.

“I thought you didn’t want me going with you since I’m such a bad shot and I scare the geese?” 

“It’s more important to me that you start acting right.” Philip got up in Henry’s space, trying to intimidate him like they were still kids. Henry drew himself to full height, bearing his teeth.

“I’m. Not. Going. I have grading to do on Saturday. Just like I do every Saturday.” And if Alex was done with the door, he wanted to thank him on Saturday since Alex was low in stock and would need to spend a few days tending to his corn field. He wasn’t sure how yet, but he would manage to both thank him and say goodbye at the same time. Philip backed down, clearly forgetting that Henry was the taller of the two of them, and shoved the second desk back into the back desk on his way out the door. He saw Alex linger in the doorway, but Henry shook his head and Alex made his way home behind Philip. 

That Saturday, the children played around the schoolhouse, the school bell ringing cheerfully. “Alex, I think you might have built me the best schoolhouse in Texas.” Henry told him, one of the little girls having put a flower crown on their teacher’s head. “Thank you.” Alex nodded, glancing to the schoolhouse.

“Thank you, Mr. Henry.”

“You can drop the honorific, I think.” Henry said gently. Alex plucked a feather from the side of his head and tucked it into Henry’s shirt pocket. His ears rang for a moment, his eyes wide as though Alex had touched him far more intimately. He knew that the feather could be turned into a quill, perhaps this feather was his way of asking him to write? He would take it that way, he simply had to.

“Never, Mr. Henry.” He tipped his hat to him and made his way to the dock, Henry’s heart still thudding out of rhythm as he watched him go. 

That night, Henry was reading  _ Pride and Prejudice _ , trying to hold back the tears as he read his favorite sections, the sound of the rain pattering against the new roof. He traced the words with his fingers, a tear landing on the page where Darcy professes his love. He felt his shoulders shake as he cried, unable to admit how much he was going to miss Alex. He jumped when a hand gently clasped his, unaware that anyone had come in at all. He looked up in shock to see Alex on the other side of his desk, giving him a solemn look.

“‘ Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.’ ” Henry slowly stood, his eyes wide as he traced Alex’s face for a hint of a joke. Alex’s face was serious and open, watching his expression as Henry stepped around his desk and traced his hand up Alex’s arm to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. He felt Alex’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him as close as he could. He pulled away for a moment, just long enough for Alex to gently wipe a stray tear from his cheek, before he dove back in and kissed him deeply. 

A few nights later, Henry had been by the lake, finishing some reading by the moonlight. Alex had spent the few days with him, kissing him slowly and bringing him more pleasure than he had ever known. He had told Henry that evening that he would need to go to the island to get more corn, but he would be back by dawn. He was finishing one of his favorite parts of  _ Northanger Abbey  _ when he heard whooping and hollering and the sound of windows breaking. He walked slowly at first, trying to figure out which drunken band had decided they wanted to spend some time in a jail cell tonight, when he realized Philip’s friends were on horseback and carrying torches towards his schoolhouse. His heart dropped into his stomach as he saw his schoolhouse up in flames, the windows broken and the flames ripping through the floorboards. “What the hell?” He yelled, looking to Thomas who was hollering something as he threw his own torch. “What is wrong with you?” He bellowed, looking to Matthew who was wobbling on his horse and clearly drunk. He pushed someone aside, knowing he had to tell the sheriff. At least the sheriff might be able to scare some sense into them. He heard his brother yell, “Are you still crying like a damned woman?!” at his back as he ran. 

He pushed open the door for the jail and found the sheriff already at his desk, though he had a mostly empty bottle of whiskey and a glass beside it that he had just set down. “Sheriff! They’re destroying the school, come on, we have to go knock some sense into them!” He yelled, looking at him with wide eyes. He turned slowly, clearly the glass he had set down not being his first drink. He smelled of whiskey and his gaze was hazy. “Sheriff?”

“What do you want me to do about it? I have a hanging to take care of.” Henry stepped back in confusion. “We don’t need a damned colored Sodomite in this town.” Henry’s heart sunk into his stomach. Someone must have seen him and Alex that night, who or why they would have said anything a mystery to Henry. 

“Then you better hang a noose for me too because I kissed him back.” Henry snarled, his voice shaky but clear. 

“Your brother said he had plans to take care of you.” The sheriff pushed Henry aside as he made his way to his own horse and Henry understood with terrifying clarity what they planned to do.

He raced to the lakeside, trying to find Alex's boat. He started rolling up his pant legs, a frantic thought entering his mind of swimming to him and trying to protect him. But he saw the boat there, Alex's body fluidly rowing the boat towards the river that fed the lake. He also saw his brother's boat, the one he was so proud of with its motor, gaining on him. "ALEX!" Henry screamed. "ALEX!" Alex couldn't hear him for the motor of Philip's boat but Henry had to try, "ALEX!" A shot rang out from Philip's boat and an animal howl escaped Henry's throat as he watched Alex slump down in his boat, not getting up even as Henry howled in pain. He watched as Philip’s boat came up beside Alex’s and as though they had to add insult to injury, they kept shooting at Alex’s body until their magazines ran out and the boat began to take on water. They masked Henry’s screams from the lake.

The following morning, Henry used his schoolteacher’s salary to buy a magazine of bullets for his Colt, a box of food, and a single tube of red lipstick. The grocer didn’t make eye contact with him as he paid, the last dollar leaving his hand before he went to go speak to the sheriff. He dropped the bullets into his gun methodically, pressing the chamber back into the gun and spinning it to make sure it caught. He saddled his horse and walked it to the jailhouse, tying it loosely at the stake before he made his way inside. There were a couple of drunkards sleeping off their night and Henry recognized Thomas who looked at him with wide-eyed recognition. It would be a shame to kill him.

The sheriff was sitting at his desk nursing his own hangover. Henry wondered whether he remembered how many bullets he put into Alex’s body. “Morning sheriff.” The man looked up at him with wide-eyed wonder as Henry approached, “You ever been kissed by a goddamn Sodomite?” He raised his gun and a shot rang out in the jailhouse. Henry methodically applied the lipstick, smacking his lips once before he walked to the sheriff’s dead body and kissed his cheek. He thought about killing Thomas too, but let him live. Let him live with the guilt.

He became known throughout the lower South as The Kissing Bandit for his proclivity of kissing his victims after he burglarized them. He didn’t care who he killed, not anymore. He ran carriages off their paths, especially those that had high stacks of luggage. He picked up quite the group of partners. A black man who made an excellent female impersonator when he wanted to, a brilliant woman with a mind for numbers, and a woman who reminded him so much of Alex that there were nights that he curled up against her to pretend that he was holding him. Together they ransacked Texas for everything it had, every bank from Houston to San Antonio had their wanted posters up. Percy had grabbed one for himself, if only to say that he’d had his picture done. 

Their best work had been ransacking the Chicago Pacific train that was going to Dallas, taking everything of value and weighing down their horses to the point that Percy talked about needing to round up some more horses. So that was their next mission. 

By the time twenty years had passed, Percy, June, and Nora were ready to settle down somewhere. They had more money and clothes than they were ever going to use and they wanted to enjoy a long and illustrious retirement. They offered him a seat on the railroad to California, but Henry waved them on with his best wishes. They had split the bounty four ways, Henry using a trunk that had the name  _ Diaz  _ on it. He thought it was fitting since he had taken Alex’s name as his own.  _ Mr. Henry Diaz, Wanted Dead or Alive.  _

He made his way back to the town that he met Alex in, finding that the prospectors had left and the lake had dried up. The schoolhouse had been rebuilt, but it was barren without a single child in sight. Henry wondered if he was the last person in the town as he walked into the saloon and saw that there wasn’t a single soul inside. He took a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf and walked back to the schoolhouse and the woods beside them with his treasure and a shovel. 

Once he was done with both the whiskey and his mission, he walked out onto the dried lake bed and began to walk towards Alex’s boat. He walked for miles, his last drop of water long gone by the time he reached the faded grey boat. He collapsed over it, his eyes closed as he waited for death to take him. “I miss you, Alex.” Henry whispered to the boat, pressing his parched lips to the wood beneath him. 

“I’m right here, baby.” Henry looked up and saw Alex crouching down, his suspenders still perfect black against his white shirt. He had his hat tipped back so that Henry could see his beautiful face, those bright brown eyes that he hadn’t seen in over twenty years looking back at him. He reached out to cup his cheek, his hand warm as though it were really him. He thumbed across Alex’s cheekbone, the feeling that he wanted to cry coming to him but he was so dehydrated there was nothing left to cry. Alex’s eyes flickered up the same time that Henry heard someone behind him cock a gun.

“Where’s the money, Henry?” Henry fell back against the boat and saw his brother pointing a long rifle at his chest. He looked far worse for wear than the last time he had seen him, his beard a scraggly mess and his clothes fitting in odd ways. The woman beside him looked familiar to Henry, but he couldn’t place her initially. He looked back to Alex, but he was gone.

“There is no money.” He told the space where Alex was.

“Bullshit. You’ve robbed every bank and business from here to Dallas.” Henry recognized her voice and gave a huff.

“Martha Withersteen, is that you?”

“I’ve been your sister-in-law for the past thirteen years, so sad you couldn’t come to the wedding, Mr. Henry.” Henry flicked his eyes up to Philip and raised an eyebrow.

“Really robbing the cradle there, brother. No one your age would take you, I guess, without your money.” He said with a smirk, coughing as sand stirred around them. He could have drawn his gun at this point, put the bullet that he had engraved with Philip’s initials into his chest, but he was tired. He knew that Philip wanted him dead and he wanted to see Alex. “I hid that treasure so well that our great-great-grandchildren will be cursing our names.” Martha yelled when a lizard scurried out underneath the boat and Philip shot at it. It was a yellow-spotted lizard, the most poisonous of its kind. Henry cooed to the lizard gently, reaching underneath the boat and grabbing the lizard again. “Good luck, Philip.” He guided the lizard to his arm and winced when the lizard bit him, the venom immediately hitting his bloodstream. 

“I’m coming, Alex.” He whispered, letting his body relax against the boat and his eyes slide closed.


End file.
